A Tale of Bourbon
by IMSLES
Summary: Gibbs reflects back on a time fraught with memories about the man who taught him more than a few of life's hard lessons.  Written for akaeve as a Hangman prize on NFA and also for her birthday!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!

A TALE OF BOURBON

A Hangman Prize of akaeve

Ch 1

He watched the amber liquid as it flowed from the bottle into the nail jar he'd recently emptied and wiped out. It was the best way to relax and reflect in the one place he always returned especially after a tough case is solved.

His memories were stirred when he saw the young teenager with his grandfather. The kid had messed up getting into a situation he couldn't get out of. He hadn't been guilty of any crimes, but the ordeal of being interrogated had certainly made an impression on him. Gibbs had no doubt the boy's grandfather would have some hard words of wisdom to share with him as well. It was clear how close the two were. With the parents currently stationed overseas it was a good thing they were.

So he found himself reminiscing of a time he'd left in his past a long time ago. A smile appeared as he remembered his paternal grandfather. There were a lot of memories he'd stored away after his death- another loved one gone. Too many in is life taken too soon for his liking or his need.

After his mother's death his Grandpa Gibbs had a helping hand in keeping a younger Leroy Jethro Gibbs in check. He'd been a hard headed stubborn kid and it didn't improve when he hit his teens. His father did his best but the boy he was couldn't see anything beyond his own troubles.

He recalled more than one occasion when he'd had to answer to his grandfather. Taking a sip of his bourbon he smirked at the memory he'd been thinking about most of the day.

High school wasn't exactly what the teen-aged Gibbs would label the best days of his life. As a matter of fact being the loner that he'd become made for some tough days. One in particular was a day he wanted nothing more to do than forget.

It had started out like most school days, even for a Friday. He'd gotten up before the sun, went for a run, came home to shower and eat hoping to get out before his father appeared. That morning Jack was waiting for him in the kitchen.

His report card had arrived and Jack had a lecture to give about bringing the grades up and being more responsible. He'd listened begrudgingly to the words, gave a clipped, "I got it," before snatching his books and pushing out the door already itching for a fight.

He didn't have far to look to get his wish. He could see Eddie Johnson and Chuck Winslow waiting outside the doors of the school. They knocked some books out of few students' hands, taunted a couple of younger kids walking past on the sidewalk, but were pumping themselves up to take their 'pal' Leroy down for booby-trapping Chuck's locker and causing him to get covered in dirt when it opened.

Leroy smirked to himself. He gave no outward sign that he even noticed them until he felt Eddie's hand on his shoulder. Then he reacted. He spun landing a solid crunching blow to the bridge of the bigger boy's nose, spurting blood instantly all over his face. While Ed held his hands to his face, Chuck shoved Gibbs from behind, but Leroy had been ready for that move and threw his elbow back into Chuck's midsection. While he was gasping for a breath, Leroy gave a sweeping uppercut squarely to the chin causing his head to snap back.

By that time Eddie had gotten himself under control and grabbed Leroy around his chest pinning his arms to his sides. Chuck shook his head to clear it and gave his own volley of punches to the now defenseless boy's stomach and few swings to his face for good measure, before teachers appeared to break it up.

The trio was escorted to the principal's office where the school nurse came to assess their injuries. Finding no serious damages she gave them cold cloths to hold against their sorest injuries.

The principal went through the litany of offenses each of the boys had been guilty of committing. Each of them was given week's worth of detentions and any further trouble would result in a suspension. Calls would be made to their parents, though he wasn't going to insist on seeing them. He then dismissed them to their respectful classes.

The rest of the day had some people thanking him for putting the two bullies in their place, while others told him to smarten up and leave them alone. Leroy couldn't wait to get out and away from everyone.

When the final bell rang he headed towards his grandparents' house. He wasn't looking for any sympathy from them. He was only trying to avoid facing Jack and all his thoughts about fighting. He knew it was inevitable that he'd have to endure the lecture, but later at that point was a better option in his opinion.

As he reached the edge of their property, he noticed they weren't at home, so he walked around to the back door which was never locked. He entered and took in the homey feeling he always experienced there. With all the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders he could only think about escaping all the trouble.

He put his books down on the kitchen table and went into the basement. He saw some of the projects his grandfather was in the process of completing. He ran his hand along the smooth wood, but didn't want to risk ruining the craftsmanship of his grandfather. Maybe when he got home he could give his grandson something to work on.

He ventured around the cool space until he came to the locked door. It hadn't always been locked. He recalled the incident that led his grandfather to making that decision. Leroy and his friends had caused quite a bit of mischief with the still that laid behind it.

It wasn't hard to find the key above the door. He unlocked it and entered marveling at the renovations that had been made after the fire had destroyed it. Now there were newer bottles mixed with the older ones his grandfather had rescued. Knowing better than to take the prized older bottles, he chose one from the freshly made group.

He wasn't sure how closely his grandfather kept track of how much he had on hand. A few sips shouldn't be missed. Since both his dad and grandfather seemed to unwind with a glass he thought he'd give it a try.

The first sip burned and gagged him making him cough repeatedly until his eyes watered. The second sip went down faster as he found tossing it back was easier than actually swallowing it. He didn't remember how many sips it took until it didn't matter how he took it; only if he managed to not dribble it all over himself.

He found he would laugh at himself for messing his shirt, but turn around and berate himself for the trouble he'd gotten into earlier in the day.

His mind was numb by the time he heard his grandfather rumble, "Leroy Jethro Gibbs what do you think you're doing?" as he took the nearly empty bottle out of his hand.

He looked up at the older man who looked exceptionally tall. It wasn't until he was lifted up that he realized he had been sitting on the floor. The room spun as the floor swayed beneath him. Somehow his grandfather managed to get him up the stairs and onto the sofa in the living room where he passed out when his head landed on the cushion.

Michael Gibbs stood looking down at his grandson, a sight depicting the troubles he'd been engaged in all day. He certainly had chosen the wrong answer to soften his pains. When he woke up he'd be hurting something fierce. He left him to sleep it off as he called Jack to let him know his boy was there and the state he was in.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!

A TALE OF BOURBON (A Hangman Prize of akaeve)

Ch 2

"I'll pick him up after I close the store," Jack told his father. Part of him was furious with his son's latest actions, the other was glad to know he was at least safe if not completely okay. He knew too well himself how horrible Leroy was going to feel in the morning.

"No need for that son," Michael assured him. "We'll take care of him tonight and bring him home tomorrow."

Jack could tell his father was already planning the consequences for his grandson and wasn't about to argue with the man. Maybe it would help Leroy put things in better perspective for the future. Certainly nothing he'd done had made any difference.

"Alright Dad. Try not to kill him," Jack jested. Again he felt a touch of pity for his son. Not only from the hangover his body would be suffering, but his father's 'cure' for it as well.

"He'll be alive when I bring him back to you," his dad promised before ending the call.

His wife stood with her arms around herself. There was mistaking the concern she had for her grandson. "He'll be fine, Anna," he soothed her pulling her into his arms. 'He'll have one doozy of a hangover, but I'll take care of that."

She almost laughed, "I'm sure you will, but it won't change what he's going through."

"Maybe not, but it just might help him make better choices in the future. He's got to learn he's not alone and lashing out at others is not the way to deal with his emotions. Nor is getting into my hooch!"

Leroy awoke on the sofa, disorientated. It was dark and he felt like he'd gone ten rounds with Eddie Johnson. His mouth was fuzzy and when he lifted his aching heavy head his stomach clenched. He attempted to throw his legs over the side to stand, but fell to the floor instead.

A cool hand fell on the back of his neck as another placed a bowl beneath his face in time to catch what had once been the contents of his stomach and what he thought might even be a portion of his insides as well. When all he could manage were a few dry heaves he pushed himself away and landed on his side closing his eyes and trying to right the world around him that had suddenly become like a boat on the water being tossed and turned by the waves.

"Easy Leroy," he heard his grandfather's gruff voice and his mind recalled what had gotten him in this condition.

Michael watched his grandson and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. It was far from pleasant suffering the after effects of overindulgence. He had a cool wash cloth ready to put on Leroy's forehead, when he saw him fall to his side. His words didn't exactly ease the boy's discomfort. If anything he thought it made him feel worse by the grimace that appeared on his face.

The coolness was a welcome sensation because it both gave relief to the fire that burned on his face and also helped to calm the thoughts that raced in his head. He was certain that either one or maybe even both his dad and grandfather was sure to murder him. He'd definitely had gone too far in trying to forget his troubles with the moonshine.

He must've spoken some of his worry aloud, because his grandfather gave a chuckle, "No one's gonna kill you. You'll survive."

Those last words didn't exactly alleviate his concerns for his well being. Granddad was apt to have something planned to ensure his grandson didn't repeat this latest adventure. He only wondered if he'd be able to recuperate before it was handed down to him.

That hope was soon dashed when he heard the order, "You've got ten minutes to get up, rinse out that bowl and meet me out back."

Knowing an answer was expected he groaned out, "Yes, sir."

He could feel his grandfather standing and watching him before he walked away saying, "Ten minutes."

"Right," Leroy took the cold cloth from his throbbing head and lifted the bowl to the table. He got up on wobbly legs, but steadied himself before picking up the bowl and carrying it to the kitchen. He tried not to look at or smell the contents, but wasn't entirely successful. He was relieved to get it rinsed out and cupped some cold water in his hand to rinse out his mouth and drink some as well. An extra splash on his face helped to wake him up.

He made a quick trip to the bathroom. Catching his reflection in the mirror he frowned at the sight. It wasn't one of his best morning looks. He wasn't about to waste any more time thinking about his appearance. He found his grandfather standing with his back to the house looking over his vast backyard.

Leroy took a deep breath and worked up his courage to approach him awaiting the directives he knew were forthcoming. Unlike his father who would lecture on end before getting to the repercussions his grandfather simply doled it out.

"This yard needs a good mowing. When you're done bagging all the clippings you can see to your grandmother's garden: weeding and watering. When you're finished with that you can come in for lunch."

Lunch was a long time away; the sun only beginning to show on the horizon. The time would not fly by though. His grandfather's mower was a monster to push. Leroy only hoped the blades didn't need sharpening. Fortunately it hadn't been a long time since the last cut, but even the inch of so he'd be trimming would add up to quite a few bagsful.

He took only last look at the yard and the garden his grandmother treasured, before going to the shed to get the mower. One look at the tall mower was enough to indicate the blades would make it through at least one more mowing

He grabbed some garbage bags and tied them around the handle, tilted the blades up and pushed to the edge of the property. Hoping to keep out of the worst of the sun as it rose; he began at the opposite end of the trees that lined the rear of the property as well as the east side.

After pushing the manual mower for two hours, he finally reached the shade, luckily before the sun had time to get too high. He still had to finish and bag, but that wasn't the hardest work. His body was feeling the fatigue and the thought of breakfast missed crossed his mind.

Eating had been the last thing he wanted when he first woke up, but now lunch seemed too long a time to wait. He wiped his brown on his t-shirt that he pulled off over his head. It was going to be a very hot day. Perfect!

He tied the shirt through the belt loop of his jeans. Before he could start on the rest of the lawn he heard the sound of ice clinking in a glass. He turned and saw his grandmother carrying a glass of lemonade and a brown sack.

"I thought you might need a little something by now," she smiled. Not the smile of warmth he was used to seeing from her, but one that held an air of disappointment as well.

"Thanks, Gram," he said sheepishly. That look from her always managed to make him feel penitent. He sipped the cold drink letting a little dribble off his chin to cool his chest. He looked at the bag waiting for her to offer it.

"I made you an egg sandwich. Figured it'd be the easiest way for you to eat it," she shrugged one shoulder.

He gave her a grateful smile. He really did appreciate her thoughtfulness. She handed him the sack and turned back toward the house.

"Grandma," he called out stopping her. When she looked back to him he continued "Thanks. I'm…." he twisted his lips, "sorry."

She nodded. "I'm sure you will be," she said so softly he wasn't sure if he heard her correctly, but didn't want her to repeat it.

The small meal didn't take long to finish, but it did give him his second wind. It took another three hours to finish up the yard and garden and clean off all the tools. Something he didn't have to be told was part of the chore.

Everything was put away. He carried the glass back into the house and rinsed it out. His grandparents sat at the table, lunch already served. He rushed to the bathroom to wash up not wanting to miss out on the sandwiches, fruit salad and cookies he saw at his place.

All cleaned he sat thanking his grandmother again. No one spoke, which he was used to with Jack, but it was unusual when around them.

He looked to one than the other as he chewed his sandwich. When his eyes met Michael's the older man asked, "Feeling better?"

His throat narrowed as he tried to swallow so he could answer. Chocking and easing it with a cough he answered, "A little." His head still ached, but the throbbing had ceased. His body was bound to be sore for days after all the yard work.

"Hmm…" his grandfather rubbed his chin. "Good thing I have a list of things you need to finish before I take you home."

Leroy looked at his plate. He figured there'd be more but the words didn't give him hope that he'd be done anytime soon. Not that he was in any rush to face Jack.

He looked back to his grandfather who handed him a slip of paper with a numbered list: 1. Garage. 2. Car and 3. Basement. He knew the first two would be cleaning. But having recently seen the basement, it hadn't looked in need of any work. It was his grandfather's escape and he kept it tidy and organized.

Sighing he guessed he'd find out soon enough what it was about. He finished his lunch savoring the cookies he took as his grandmother's sign of forgiveness. He cleaned up his dishes, gave her a kiss on the cheek and went to tackle his duties.

He was glad to have time to himself to do the work. It let him get things done faster and allowed him time to think. He guessed the thinking part was expected. He knew better now than to even consider touching anything in that room. Maybe the basement order was just going to be the lecture to respect Grandpa's space.

He'd find out soon enough as he was almost done washing the car. He sprayed himself over his head to keep cool and by the time he was done he was mostly dry. He rolled up the hose, dumped the bucket and returned it to the newly organized garage. He took a moment to appreciate the cleanly swept floor, before going back to face his grandfather.

When he entered the basement he wasn't sure what to expect. It looked the same as yesterday, but the door he'd unlocked was standing open.

"Come on in Leroy," Michael beckoned.

His steps were hesitant, but carried him to the threshold. "Yes, Grandpa," he answered.

"You worked hard today."

Leroy nodded.

"A man's work," Michael looked him in the eye.

"I suppose," Leroy had no clue where he was heading.

"Perhaps you'd like a drink," his grandfather offered a bottle to the stunned teen.

Wide-eyed he shook his head, "No thank you, sir."

"You sure? You seemed ready yesterday," he raised an eyebrow.

"It was stupid," Leroy admitted.

"Huh?" Michael stood folding his arms over his chest, "Which of your actions exactly do you consider stupid?"

Almost snickering the teen answered, "All of them. I shouldn't have fought at school. I shouldn't have snuck in here," he indicated the room with a flick of his hand. "I really shouldn't have started drinking and definitely shouldn't have drunk as much as I did."

"Glad to see you realize where you went wrong," Michael stated taking a sip from his glass. Leroy winced at the sight. He was all but certain he'd never drink that stuff again.

Putting down his glass, his grandfather said, "Get your things. I'll see you home."

"I can walk myself," Leroy did not want the two men together ganging up on him.

Michael smirked, "I'd like to see my son. Now let's move."

Leroy did and quickly. The sooner it was done the sooner it'd be in the past.

He had to slow down slightly as his grandfather wasn't as in as big a hurry as he was and rested his arm on the younger man's shoulders. It was almost torture and seeing home was almost a relief until he thought about all his father would have to say.

Jack met them at the door. "Dad. Leroy," he looked at the two; one smiling and the other waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him.

"See you survived," he spoke to his son.

"Yes, sir," he replied not wanting to engage in a run through of the day's events.

"Why don't you go eat dinner? It's on the table," he moved aside to let him through smirking at the speed he'd managed to get by.

"How'd it go?" he asked his father.

"Turned down an offered glass," his father nodded. "I don't think he'll be quick to return to the bottle."

"No. Guess after dinner he won't think it's worth it," Jack smiled. "Thanks, Dad," he shook the older man's hand and watched him leave with a faster gait than he had on his arrival.

Jack put on his most serious face and entered the kitchen. Leroy was almost finished, so Jack got the paper he prepared earlier and put it next to his son's plate.

Leroy looked at it and back to Jack. Without swallowing his bit, but moving it to his cheek he asked, "What's this?"

"You're list for tomorrow," Jack shrugged and left the boy to find out on his own.

Leroy put down his fork and lifted the folded paper. He opened it and closed his eyes with a sigh. The list looked all too familiar: 1. Lawn. 2. Garden. 3. Garage. 4. Car. 5. Basement.

There'd be no conversation in the basement. Theirs needed a lot of work. It became very clear that the message was delivered. There'd be no argument. He did the crime and he'd pay the price.

In his own basement, Jethro felt the liquid burn down his throat. "Cheers Grandpa," he smiled.


End file.
